Harry Potter Gets Drunk
by MiscellaneousSoup
Summary: Drunken antics. Skiving Snackboxes. VOLDEMORT! And Howlers.


Ron stumbled into the common room, completely stinking drunk. Clutching a pristine flagon of wine in one hand and an enchanted air horn in the other, he weaved around the studying students, occasionally tripping and slopping some of the liquid into the horn. No one took too much notice of him. Fred and George had taken Ron out two nights ago for a stress-free funfest, and he most likely still had some residual enchantments. It wouldn't be the first time that one of their jokes left their mark long after the initial event.

Stopping at Harry and Hermione's table, Ron let out a small burp and flopped on the nearest chair. "EH, Harry, Hermione, whazzup?"

Hermione shrieked, whipping her essay off the table. "Ron, you stained my essay! I've been working on this for nine hours and it's due tomorrow."

"Aw, relax. Here, I'll just get out my wand." Ron fumbled around for his wand as the room scattered. Harry began edging into the other room, ignoring Hermione's panicking.

Finally, Ron pulled out his wand…and immediately threw up onto Hermione's paper, then passed out into the slop. Hermione considered using a curse, then decided to practice the valuable art of calming meditation. Harry, having no such moral qualms, kicked Ron to make sure he was wholly passed out, then began doodling insults on his face.

…

The next day, Ron woke up in the common room, alone and stark naked save for a single Howler attached to his forehead. He considered mumbling some choice swears, but the blinding headache made it too painful. Instead, he curled up into as small of a ball as possible, avoiding the congealed vomit pool.

After thirty seconds of silence, he looked up. "Oy, bloody gits. Just like Fred and George to give me a fake Howler, I'll rip their- "

 **"RONALD WEASLEY!"** The Howler exploded into Hermione's fiery visage. **"I should thank you, but I won't. You inspired me to create a brand-new form of Howler wherein my actions are broadcast live to the Great Hall. Conversely, they can see you."**

Ron hiccupped. "Good one, Lee. You really got me."

The letter sparked and burned Ron's pinky, producing a satisfyingly high-pitched yelp. **"Ron, as we've been friends for years, I'm giving you one chance to redeem yourself. I had to completely rewrite my essay and take twenty showers. Great Merlin, what did you drink?"**

Ron paused. "Um...You said that the Great Hall can see me, right?"

 **"The professors and Dumbledore can see you. Snape was laughing so hard he started choking. Professor Trelawney is considering transferring to the Defense Against The Dark Arts position purely so she'll die."**

Ron shrugged. "Eh, can't get any worse than that." He stood up, then screeched as he remembered the rampant nudity. Half of the Great Hall immediately began convulsing, while the other half tried to use the Imperius Curse for a mercy killing."

After scratching his elbow for an uncomfortably long amount of time, Ron said, "Fred and George made their own special brand of alcohol and I was the first test subject. It's the best thing I've ever had. I can't go back to ordinary food and drink. You've got to try it!"

 **"Are you serious? Only the world's stupidest person would try that after the shenanigans you've pulled off."**

Harry hopped up and down, waving his hand. "As the Boy Who Lived, I bet I can chug a pint of this without dying. Just let me Apparate there."

Dumbledore stood up, his robes nobly flapping in the wind. Or, rather, from Hagrid, still pounding Snape on the back long after his choking fit had ceased. "I'll allow it! This is too interesting to pass up. Besides, I'm the boss, screw the rules!"

With a gleeful smile, Harry disappeared from the dining area, popping up on the Howler's screen. Fred and George were also there, merrily reveling in Ron's condition. They held up seven pint-sized bottles, each decorated with a special insignia. The choices included Lupin's Liquor, Flamel's Liver-To-Gold Madness, Pettigrew Surprise, and a deadly black bottle filled with a potent mixture of all of the available choices.

Fred gave an affable grin. "Really, only three of the bottles had names. At the moment, we're concentrating on gathering ingredients."

"Hey, preorder now and you'll get a teaser of our upcoming Polyjuice Poison. Want to drink, but scared for your health? Get someone else's liver!" Fred held up a tiny container, orange liquid sloshing around inside. "So, which one do you- MERLIN'S UGLY HALF-BROTHER, what have you done?!" 

While he was self-promoting, Harry had grabbed all of the pint-sized bottles, mixed them together, and consumed the concoction. Within moments, his face had grown ashen, broken out into hives, and gave out a dangerous amount of sweat. He fell to floor and groaned, changing from creature to creature to creature. First a hobgoblin, then an elf, then some awful design with melting skin and exposed muscle and bones.

He appeared in the Great Hall, bit off Malfoy's right arm, and groaned. "This…is…the GREATEST THING I'VE EVER HAD IN MY LIFE!"

He snapped back into a fairly humanoid form, with the exception of bunny ears protruding from his backside. "I'm so drunk I can see the future. You got HOT, Parvati!"

Parvati considered killing Harry.

Stumbling around, Harry gave each and every professor a painful noogie, making sure to kick Snape in the ribs seven times. The Potions professor wheezed, a large trickle of blood staining the floor. It appeared as though Hagrid's "help" had broken several ribs. Reaching Dumbledore, he kicked him in the shin hard enough that the sharp CRACK of snapping bones echoed throughout the hall. "That's for being too vague!"

Pulling a flash out of nowhere, Harry sipped some vodka, slurring and drooling. "All-a you guys're my best friends…SO MUCH FRIENDS…. I am whee skippy-a-doodle."

Hermione ran to his aid, knowing Muggle medical techniques on how to stop a stroke, but Harry popped up, accidentally nailing her with his elbow. "Whoops, sorry 'Mione." She cursed and sent a stinging hex down his drawers.

"I no longer feel pain!" Harry cheered, exalting in his self-delusions. "I'm gonna drunk-dial Voldemort. Anyone got a phone?"

Professor McGongall pulled out an iPhone, ignoring the shock of the remaining students. "Yo, got one right here. What? I lied about electronics not working. Do you realize how great my cell service is? The quality is amazing, even without magical enhancements."

Harry snatched it away and began mashing the buttons into his forehead. "Hi-ho, Voldemort! I challenge you to a fight, you moldy old worm! Your face is so ugly, it killed the Ugly Barnacle! Your mom is so dumb, she used a Skiving Snackbox as an energy drink! Your Death Eaters are so incompetent, I killed them all back when I was a melting pile of ooze. Wait, that's not funny. Eh, just commere, I'll plant my steel-toed boots so far up your butt, you'll cry like a baby. EAT IT, RIDDLE!"

Voldemort immediately appeared, wearing a shower cap and a bathrobe. "Damn you, Potter, I was finally going to take a shower! I've been skulking around so many cemeteries that it's turned my skin grey. Hey, hey, stop that!"

While he was rambling, Harry was poking him with his wand. "You're ugly, Tom. Ugly, ugly, U-G-L-Y, I don't know the lyrics, but you're ugly, you're ugly."

Voldemort drew his wand with a snarl. "That is _it_ , Potter! You've slandered my good name for the last time. I may be a scumbag, but my personal hygiene is a source of personal pride. I SHALL WEAR YOUR SKIN AS A SUIT WHEN I GO TO FANCY PARTIES AND SIP COCKTAILS OUT OF YOUR PINKY BONES."

Harry yawned, then splashed the rest of his alcohol in Voldemort's face, making him moan in agony. His eyes turned to mush and dribbled out of his skull, leaving bloody, cavernous holes. The ooze fell somewhere above his mouth and shifted. The foul wizard's hand trembled and felt the globules. "I... I finally have a nose. I have a nose! Praise Satan, I have a nose! Oh, thank you, Potter! I hereby resign from evil and pledge to devote my soul to a life of goodness and cheer. On the River Styx, I declare- "

With a smash, Mr. Weasley fell through the ceiling, crushing Voldemort into a bloody, altogether-dead mess of bones and skin. With a click, his rubber duck-shaped Power Rangers suit disappeared, forming itself into a simple briefcase. "Here I am!"

 **That's All Folks!**


End file.
